Course studies on babies at the beach

Published: Sunday, July 28, 2013 at 4:30 a.m.

Last Modified: Friday, July 26, 2013 at 2:08 p.m.

When it came time to settle on a permanent location, there was no doubt about it. The North Carolina mountains were a like a magnet, calling me home.

I will be the first one to promote "staycations." In fact, each year I have a lengthy to-do list in this magnificent corner of the world. But once summer solstice hits, there is some ancestral code that signals regions of my brain. Like a lunar tide, it pulls me to the beach. Summer is just not summer until the wafting odor of pungent marsh enters my sensory cavities.

One whiff and my body and soul know it is time to put aside life's worries to repair and rejuvenate. My grandmother gave me this opportunity during my childhood summers. Now it is my turn to share this summer pilgrimage with the next generation.

Now in the sixth year of witnessing babies at the beach, I think back on psychoanalyst Erik Erikson's stages of psychosocial development. This was required reading in one of my college classes. At each stage of life, one masters a skill or level of development. For example, an infant learns trust or mistrust. Next is autonomy, and so forth, until the end of life where one hopefully achieves integrity.

Hint to college students: Do read Erikson's theory as it is interesting, but there may be a newer expert in the field. Or like me, do your own study at the beach, the perfect environment to observe children.

In Beach Development 101, my grandbabies (one 10-month-old, one 8-month-old) mastered a lot that summer: parallel play, accidental eye and ear poking, curiosity-inspired hair-pulling, and tasting ice cream for the first time. Skills mastered were sand-eating and commando crawling.

Course 202: Grandchildren walk part of the way to the beach, holding the hand of a parent or grandparent. The babies are learning to talk. Our grandson calls his granddad Da, but he cannot master Grammie yet. So he adopts one name he uses for both: Mimi-Da.

The footstool in the den is of intense interest. Both babies like to climb it, and they never tire of repetition. They find it hilarious when they make it to the top. The parents are reeling from the gargantuan amount of paraphernalia required for a trip: strollers, cribs, monitors, diapers, backpacks, and on and on.

Course 303: This year our grandson experiences delicious ecstasy upon seeing the ocean. He gleefully rolled in wet sand for 45 minutes. Getting the sand out of his swimsuit, hair, ears and nostrils was a challenge. The newest addition to the family touched his toes to the water.

Little chubby legs sport their swimsuit fashion choices: Tinkerbell, a lobster and a whale. No dressing little ones like teenagers in this family.

Due to exhaustion, the cousins slept through supper at the restaurant.

Course 404 and 505: The grands learn that slogan, "Are we there yet?" Baby No. 4 is now part of the family. There is a potty-training marathon for one of the moms. Sandcastle-smashing skills are elevated to a fine art. The children enjoy crabbing and fishing.

This year, we are up to Beach Party 606. The grandchildren are a bit squeamish about trash in the water. They get the creeps when seaweed brushes a leg or something foreign is underfoot.

It is the year of the water park. We will not dwell on a past year when a certain grandmother got stuck in the floating tube ride, going around and around the same ride. Finally, a family member noticed and extricated her from her tube. That is best forgotten.

Figuring that any child who did not like driftwood would never climb the water-slide tower was erroneous. Our 5-year-old granddaughter entered the water park, climbed the tower, and headed to the bottom on a near-vertical angle. She became instant friends with everyone in the pool. Jumping off the side of the pool is the hot item this year. They played so hard they took colossal naps.

There is no place like the beach to master the bike ride. The oldest grandson soloed down the bike path, under the elegant oak trees. His female cousin is not far behind him. She rode to supper and almost plunged into a lagoon. These two both lose a front tooth in the same 24-hour period.

The girls share a bedroom this year. But at the beach, each wants her own digging hole and drip castle. Wildlife spotting is superb: pelicans, dolphins, turtles, alligators, and even some turtle tracks and a close encounter with a deer on the beach.

Tropical Storm Andrea unloads the heavens and drops a limb on the roof. Then the sun comes out. Sitting by the shore, we watch the water creep closer. It is time to move back, but everyone is too lazy to stir. Here comes the big one, soaking the beach bags and towels, and sucking chairs and toys into the surf.

This sends us into a screaming, laughing frenzy. These are the moments for building summer memories.

<p>When it came time to settle on a permanent location, there was no doubt about it. The North Carolina mountains were a like a magnet, calling me home.</p><p>I will be the first one to promote "staycations." In fact, each year I have a lengthy to-do list in this magnificent corner of the world. But once summer solstice hits, there is some ancestral code that signals regions of my brain. Like a lunar tide, it pulls me to the beach. Summer is just not summer until the wafting odor of pungent marsh enters my sensory cavities.</p><p>One whiff and my body and soul know it is time to put aside life's worries to repair and rejuvenate. My grandmother gave me this opportunity during my childhood summers. Now it is my turn to share this summer pilgrimage with the next generation.</p><p>Now in the sixth year of witnessing babies at the beach, I think back on psychoanalyst Erik Erikson's stages of psychosocial development. This was required reading in one of my college classes. At each stage of life, one masters a skill or level of development. For example, an infant learns trust or mistrust. Next is autonomy, and so forth, until the end of life where one hopefully achieves integrity.</p><p>Hint to college students: Do read Erikson's theory as it is interesting, but there may be a newer expert in the field. Or like me, do your own study at the beach, the perfect environment to observe children.</p><p>In Beach Development 101, my grandbabies (one 10-month-old, one 8-month-old) mastered a lot that summer: parallel play, accidental eye and ear poking, curiosity-inspired hair-pulling, and tasting ice cream for the first time. Skills mastered were sand-eating and commando crawling.</p><p>Course 202: Grandchildren walk part of the way to the beach, holding the hand of a parent or grandparent. The babies are learning to talk. Our grandson calls his granddad Da, but he cannot master Grammie yet. So he adopts one name he uses for both: Mimi-Da.</p><p>The footstool in the den is of intense interest. Both babies like to climb it, and they never tire of repetition. They find it hilarious when they make it to the top. The parents are reeling from the gargantuan amount of paraphernalia required for a trip: strollers, cribs, monitors, diapers, backpacks, and on and on.</p><p>Course 303: This year our grandson experiences delicious ecstasy upon seeing the ocean. He gleefully rolled in wet sand for 45 minutes. Getting the sand out of his swimsuit, hair, ears and nostrils was a challenge. The newest addition to the family touched his toes to the water. </p><p>Little chubby legs sport their swimsuit fashion choices: Tinkerbell, a lobster and a whale. No dressing little ones like teenagers in this family. </p><p>Due to exhaustion, the cousins slept through supper at the restaurant.</p><p>Course 404 and 505: The grands learn that slogan, "Are we there yet?" Baby No. 4 is now part of the family. There is a potty-training marathon for one of the moms. Sandcastle-smashing skills are elevated to a fine art. The children enjoy crabbing and fishing.</p><p>This year, we are up to Beach Party 606. The grandchildren are a bit squeamish about trash in the water. They get the creeps when seaweed brushes a leg or something foreign is underfoot.</p><p>It is the year of the water park. We will not dwell on a past year when a certain grandmother got stuck in the floating tube ride, going around and around the same ride. Finally, a family member noticed and extricated her from her tube. That is best forgotten.</p><p>Figuring that any child who did not like driftwood would never climb the water-slide tower was erroneous. Our 5-year-old granddaughter entered the water park, climbed the tower, and headed to the bottom on a near-vertical angle. She became instant friends with everyone in the pool. Jumping off the side of the pool is the hot item this year. They played so hard they took colossal naps.</p><p>There is no place like the beach to master the bike ride. The oldest grandson soloed down the bike path, under the elegant oak trees. His female cousin is not far behind him. She rode to supper and almost plunged into a lagoon. These two both lose a front tooth in the same 24-hour period.</p><p>The girls share a bedroom this year. But at the beach, each wants her own digging hole and drip castle. Wildlife spotting is superb: pelicans, dolphins, turtles, alligators, and even some turtle tracks and a close encounter with a deer on the beach.</p><p>Tropical Storm Andrea unloads the heavens and drops a limb on the roof. Then the sun comes out. Sitting by the shore, we watch the water creep closer. It is time to move back, but everyone is too lazy to stir. Here comes the big one, soaking the beach bags and towels, and sucking chairs and toys into the surf.</p><p>This sends us into a screaming, laughing frenzy. These are the moments for building summer memories. </p><p>Mary Garrison lives in Flat Rock. Reach her at mmrgarrison@gmail.com.</p>